


It looks worse than it is

by Lavellanvibes



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Blood, Drabble, F/M, Healing, Hurt/Comfort, Kissing, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Minor Injuries, Needles, Panic Attacks, Short
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-04
Updated: 2020-12-04
Packaged: 2021-03-10 05:15:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,148
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27878961
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lavellanvibes/pseuds/Lavellanvibes
Summary: Samson is injured in battle. He walks Sadira through patching up his wound, leading to vulnerability in both of them.
Relationships: Female Inquisitor/Raleigh Samson, Female Lavellan/Raleigh Samson
Kudos: 2





	It looks worse than it is

“We should stop and take a look at it.” 

“It’s fine, uh, just don’t tell Dira.”

Sadira turned around at the sound of Samson whispering her name, nearly tripping on a tree root and falling on Varric. Blackwall and Samson were lagging behind her and Varric, apparently discussing something involving her. “Don’t tell me what?” Sadira asked, her scarred brow furrowing in annoyance. Blackwall looked over at Samson in guilt, clearly undecided on what to say. “It’s nothing.” Samson dismissed, shaking his head and looking away. Sadira felt anger rise in her stomach. Everyone was always keeping things from her. Did they think she couldn’t handle the truth, whatever it was? Had she not shown that she was becoming capable of dealing with stress? She took a deep breath. Keep it under control, she thought, take a moment. “Please tell me, Raleigh.” Sadira said, trying to level her voice as she approached the two men. 

Samson paused a moment, then opened his mouth to speak. “Back there, during the fight… I, ah, was injured. I’m alright. We should keep moving. We can get more potions at camp.” he said. Sadira’s eyes widened, looking him over before spotting a wadded up cloth stuffed in the neck of his armor. “Why didn’t you tell me? Let me see!” She moved to stand on her toes and assess his injury. Sadira pulled him down and looked over his freckled neck, frowning. She could barely see in the cloudy moonlight. “Well? Why keep this secret?” She said, looking at him and demanding an answer, inches from his face. Close enough to kiss him, and not caring that she was in front of Varric and Blackwall. “You used so much magic back there. I didn’t want to push you too far. It’s nothing, Dira. Don’t worry about me.” Samson said. “Did you just tell Pouty not to worry? Bold move.” Varric laughed from behind.

Before anyone could say anything else, Sadira was pushing Samson down to sit on a damp tree log and unbuckling his armor. Samson didn’t protest and simply plopped on the log with a sigh and allowed his beloved elf to poke and prod at his neck. Sadira removed the cloth and gasped. 

At Samson’s collar was a gash several inches long and nauseatingly deep. Dried blood stained his undershirt as fresh blood continued to leak from the wound. “It looks worse than it is.” He tried to assure her. Sadira felt worry claw its way up from her stomach. “I didn’t even see you get hurt. I could have done something. If I didn’t drink that last potion…” Her hands began to shake and her vision tunneled. It was happening again, becoming overwhelmed. Samson placed his hand at her waist, grounding her. “Hey,” he said, gently squeezing her side “not your fault, love. Take a breath. I have a kit in my bag, just go grab it.” Sadira nodded, kneeling to rummage around and finding the supplies. She stood there blankly, holding the kit. “I don’t know how to heal you without magic, Raleigh.” Samson beckoned her next to him on the log. “Come ‘ere.” 

Sadira sat with her legs on either side of the log, sliding up closer to have better access to Samson’s neck. He leaned over to accommodate their drastic height difference, resting his forearm on her knee. It was nice to be so close to him after several days of them avoiding any display of affection. They still didn’t feel comfortable with everyone seeing them together, despite everyone knowing the truth of their relationship. “Just take some water and wash it out first.” he instructed. She noticed that Varric and Blackwall had wandered elsewhere, allowing them this moment together. Sadira slowly poured water onto the wound, glancing up to see Samson wincing slightly. “Is this- are you alright?” she asked. He nodded. His skin broke out in goosebumps as the cool water ran over his neck. The forest was cold, and the water wasn’t helping. She poured more water, which elicited more hisses from Samson. “You’ll have to stitch it. That bastard’s dagger got me good.” He said, gesturing at the needle and thread in the kit. Sadira paused and her eyes went wide. Samson chuckled. “Of course, when you bloody stop shaking. Just relax, Dira.” Samson’s laughter had a calming effect on Sadira. Maybe the situation wasn’t as perilous as she thought. At her relaxation, she started to think about the implications of them being alone together. How long would Varric and Blackwall be gone? He had urged her to relax and perhaps she had overreacted. 

“Don’t you like sewing? Just pretend I’m one of your dresses.” 

He had her smiling, she realized, for the first time that entire day. “Not people, Leigh! But you can be my first.” she couldn’t help from laughing. At her laugh, Samson’s head lifted as if he had heard a long-forgotten melody. “Love hearing that. Think I’m already healed, princess.” Sadira noticed their closeness with a flip in her stomach. His warmth radiated off of him, as it always did, warding off the chill from the damp log. She wanted to kiss him and never stop, but there was work to be done. “Here, let me stitch it before you bleed out.” Sadira picked up the needle and thread. “Just walk me through it. I can do it.” 

The next few minutes were spent with her furiously concentrating as he showed her where to place each stitch, and swearing with every prick of the needle. When she was done, she proudly admired her neat stitch row. “I think this will hold up. No exerting yourself while this heals! Do you think we have to wrap it? Is that a thing?” 

Sadira looked up for an answer but instead found his moonlight-reflected eyes staring at her intently. “S’fine. Just…” Samson’s hands were suddenly cupping her jaw and he was kissing her like she wanted him to all week. If she wasn’t already sitting her knees would have gone wobbly, and it wasn’t from the sight of blood. She wrapped her arms around him, trying her best to avoid his wound. Sadira squeaked with surprise as Samson lifted her to straddle his lap as if she were weightless. The feeling of being in his strong arms was like no other, and she mentally reminded herself to thank Varric and Blackwall for having some courtesy for their privacy. 

His lips were warm against the chill of the night as he deepened the kiss, moving his index finger to gently tickle the shell of her ear. Sadira smiled against his lips. “What would I do without you, Vhenan? You need to be more careful!” She pulled back, and realized his eyelashes were wet with tears. “Vhenan?” Samson shook his head and pulled her back in, wordlessly expressing his devotion in the kiss.


End file.
